My Personal Angel
by Power of the Pen12
Summary: After being gravely injured at a crime scene, Natalie undergoes emergency surgery. After losing the will to live, succumbing to the pain, she is visited by a personal deity who begs her to keep living- Mitch. References to "Mr. Monk Is At Your Service."


This is my first "Monk" fic. I hope you enjoy it. The storyline is a bit hard to understand at first, but bear with me.

She didn't feel much at first.

Then again, after so much pain it seemed impossible that she could ever feel again.

But she was wrong.

Natalie Teeger opened her eyes, gasping for air that didn't come. The world was nothing; and, for some reason, she liked it that way.

What had happened? She strained to remember, but an invisible wall blocked off her memories. She knew who she was; nothing else. What else mattered?

A blinding white light blazed suddenly in her eyes, yet she stared at it easily. It was the single most beautiful thing she had ever seen; peace, serenity, and pure, uncomplicated love all whispered to her invitingly without saying a word.

She smiled genuinely, and moved happily towards the ray of light. As she walked (or floated, she couldn't tell) closer, her heart lifted happily, leaving behind all her troubles.

Some part of her understood that she was leaving the world, and yet what did she live for? Life seemed pointless and unnecessary compared to the perfect utopia the gleaming light promised.

And yet, just as sparkling golden gates began to form before her, a reason to live emerged from the weak depths of her memory.

A single name.

Julie.

Though Natalie didn't fully remember who it was, it was obvious this Julie needed her. A nagging darkness clouded around her ankles, tainting the perfect yet unexplainable place.

Natalie frowned, batting at the growing cloud.

Shrill voices called to her in the dimming light; cries and moans of pure sadness drove the beautiful gates away. Natalie pressed her hands to her ears.

"Is she gonna make it?"

"Oh my god, Natalie!"

"MOM!"

Familiar voices pulsated throughout her mind. Mom? Was she a mother?

Julie.

Mom.

Words clicked together, linking foreign memories with familiar ones. An image of a cherubic teenaged girl flashed in front of Natalie, and she knew the face.

Julie.

Her Julie, her one and only daughter.

That's who she had to live for.

Cruel, merciless hands pulled at Natalie's shoulders, dragging her back into the real world. She grabbed at the corners of her dream world, confused and terrified.

Memories from earlier that very day were beginning to reemerge, and Natalie watched in fascination.

She remembered walking into a dilapidated house, pursing her lips at the lack of disgust from the cops snapping pictures of the mangled body lying on the floor. Her stomach had turned endlessly, though she saw countless corpses each month.

Why?

A man stood beside her, his head tilted at an odd angle as he surveyed the crime scene. Though he acted incredibly odd, no one paid attention. It must have been normal for him.

Monk… the word must have been familiar to her in life. The man who had stood beside her at the crime scene… her employer?

Years of memories hit Natalie like a thousand tons. Mr. Monk, her OCD boss. Of course. How could she have forgotten? What else lay in the unspoken layers of her mind, as if she had locked them away and thrown away the key?

Natalie remembered how unfamiliar arms had grabbed her from behind, holding a rusted and unnaturally sharp knife to her neck. She remembered how the man's voice had shouted warnings to the anguished policemen, all the time using her as a shield to their raised guns, keeping them from firing. The men knew her and obviously cared for her; their expressions suggested she was more than an unlucky bystander to them.

She remembered being dragged back to the man's car while Mr. Monk had watched, a look of defeated, crushing sadness on his face. He had lost loved ones before, she recalled.

Trudy.

The name floated tantalizingly throughout her fuzzed mind, and though she snatched at it, begging for information, she remembered no more.

Her mind switched back to the day's events; before the car had even started, an eccentric cop- Randy Disher, she remembered later- had fired wildly at her captor.

The man had dragged her outside again, and been shot at repeatedly, though the captain of the police force- Captain Stottlemeyer, she recalled- had shouted desperately at his men to stop.

She remembered the pain, and tried instantly not to. It had been the worst experience of her life; and though she tried to block the memories, they flooded eagerly, waiting to be understood.

She recalled the knife at her neck again, and the surprise as the man lowered his weapon to her stomach. The surprise had quickly melted into terror as she felt the pressure on her stomach, the cold of the metal breaking her skin…

She forced the details out of her head, but the pain remained. It clouded her already fuzzy memory, and she yelled at the cruel echo of the knife. She remembered the hot rush of her spilt blood mingling with the icy metal. She had fallen and the man had run; yells had filled the air, and concerned hands had gripped her shoulders, begging her to live.

She could still hear Captain Stottlemeyer's shouts, the whine of the ambulance, and the odd whimpering she had made. Behind the sheet of disorienting cruelty, her life quietly reorganized itself, and she could remember everything from her childhood to the death of her husband.

Mitch…

New waves of anguish washed over her, and she cried like she had the first time she had lost Mitch. It was all new to her again, and the pain from the loss mixed with the remembrance of the weapon the man had used against her was too much.

Suddenly, a foreign world formed around her; she was lying in a bed of sorts. It was very small, barely large enough to hold her frame. An unfamiliar man wearing gloves and holding odd tools hovered above her, his eyes pained and determined. Harsh chemicals burned her nose and eyes.

She jerked uncontrollably, terrified of the unknown. The man shouted instructions to people out of her line of vision, his voice rising octave by octave. Men and women clad in sterile white outfits surrounded her, and suddenly the air filling her lungs felt heavier and almost stale. Natalie was barely aware that a woman was holding a plastic contraption to her lips, forcing her to breathe.

She drifted back into the dark, confused world of her own mind, and she heard the man standing above her exhale in relief before he disappeared completely.

She was in a hospital?

The realization was sudden and odd; why should she remember this piece of information when so much remained unexplained? But she accepted the information gladly, reviewing the past few minutes with fresh eyes.

The man who had stood above her was a doctor. She was in an operating room, undergoing massive surgery. The knife wounds must have been more serious than she had thought.

Now that she wasn't so confused, Natalie was instantly overcome with worries. They hit her like bullets, forcing her startled mind to clear slightly.

Why had the man at the crime scene grabbed her? Was it just because he needed a hostage? What had he planned initially to do with her? Ask for ransom? Kill her for good measure, to show the cops who was in charge? What would happen if she died on the operating table, leaving Julie parentless and Mr. Monk assistant-less? Of course, the former worried her more.

This thought pulsated throughout her weak body, refilling her with new life. Julie needed her. Though entering the golden gates and ending her life seemed like such a tempting option, she would live for her daughter and ignore her own selfish needs.

Don't go towards the light, Natalie told herself firmly.

It became rather easy; being unconscious yet so aware had its advantages, and Natalie became incredibly hopeful. When she had first awoken (though Natalie had never fully woken up, she had just stumbled from her stupor slightly as the medicine wore off) Natalie had been overcome by the unbearable pain, confused by the disorientation, and saw no reason to keep living.

Now that she could think straight, or straighter, Natalie could ignore the temptation of the gleaming gates that hovered so teasingly at the corners of her mind. She stretched in the never ending nothingness of the space between consciousness and sleep, mulling over the life she had forgotten briefly.

A nudging pain had formed at her ankles and wrists, but Natalie brushed it off. What was a little more discomfort? It would all end, and she would be handing Mr. Monk disinfectant wipes in no time.

In the middle of reliving a long lost childhood memory, the pain that Natalie had subdued sprang to life again, a new fire in its cruel soul. The piercing pain spread up her legs and arms, wrapping itself tight around her torso. Natalie twisted uncomfortably, telling herself it would all be over soon, that the doctors knew what they were doing and the pain would end.

It didn't.

Red-hot flames seemed to lick up and down her body, and it was even worse than the knife had been. A chemical burn was chafing her heart, making her heartbeats ten times faster. The surgeons had made a mistake.

Natalie didn't know much (barely anything) about surgery, but she was smart enough to realize that unless a terribly skilled doctor swooped in to save the day, she would never see her daughter again.

As the burn doubled in her chest, Natalie fretted less and less about Julie growing up without a mother. Her train of thought was completely derailed, and all her worries about others vanished quietly.

The beautiful world with the golden gates reappeared in front of her, though the pain remained. Oh, how it remained. She crawled towards heaven eagerly; what did the world have for her now? Natalie could only think bitterly of harsh chemicals spilt by clumsy doctors, sharp daggers and the men who used them so thoughtlessly, and the sorrow of losing the one who made your day worth living.

Speaking of Mitch, she'd see him soon! This thought caused her heart to swell with joy. Another reason to die, to let go of everything

Disturbed cries echoed like nightmares in the ebbing darkness. They shouted her name, begging her to fight the pain a bit longer.

No, she told the voices firmly. The world is nothing but a mess of pain. I won't remain.

"Her heart's failing," a man said urgently, his voice loud and lacking an echo. A twinge of guilt spread like an electric shock throughout Natalie's body, but she ignored it, scrambling an inch closer to eternal bliss and an inch farther from the operating table. She could feel her heartbeats now, they pulsed uncomfortably, louder yet feebler than normal.

Make it end! She begged silently, wishing the pain away. But no God responded. Never mind, Natalie thought. I'll end it myself.

So she tried harder, losing all will to live. Julie, her parents, and Mr. Monk were long forgotten. Her heart spluttered, and she cheered mutely, but the doctors were stopping her somehow. There was only so much Natalie could do to end her own life while lying unconscious on a table surrounded by people who wanted the exact opposite.

And then, just as she had reached the shining gates, just as she had reached out to pull them apart, everything vanished.

Her breath, contaminated by chemicals, caught in her throat. Natalie glanced about; the world was colorless around her. The pain had ended, and she rejoiced.

"Mitch?" Natalie called, finding her voice. It sounded odd to her. When no one answered, she became afraid; her voice hadn't even echoed. She was in a secluded and never ending universe by herself. Was this heaven?

"No, it isn't," a familiar voice called, answering her unspoken question. Natalie whirled about, but all she could see was- well, she couldn't see anything at all. Her eyes weren't accustomed to this color-free environment, and her eyes became unfocused as they searched for something to look at.

"Hello?" she called uncertainly.

A figure, off in the distance, began materializing. It was definitely male, yet it appeared so slowly the features were blurred. Natalie tried to walk towards the man, but her legs found nothing to stand upon; she was suspended in a sort of limbo.

The man came closer to her, not walking as much as flying. A crisp white hat was tilted slightly on his head, a white uniform to match sitting neatly on his stiff body. His face was familiar, yet it had been so long since Natalie had looked at that face in the flesh.

"Mitch," she breathed. "So it is heaven."

She tried to throw herself into his arms, yet was unable to move; Mitch's expression was pained, and he made no effort to help Natalie closer to him.

"No," he said uneasily. "It's not heaven. I've seen heaven, and it's much better."

"What is this place?" Natalie asked, glancing about. When her eyes found nothing, sliding absently past miles- or inches- of the strange universe, she turned back to Mitch, who was mercifully easy to look at.

"I'm not sure, really," Mitch admitted. "I was granted this for just a little while, a private place to talk to you."

"We have forever to talk," Natalie laughed, euphoria claiming her as she stared into her husband's eyes.

"No, we don't," Mitch said gravely. "We will someday, but not today, Natalie."

The smile faded from Natalie's face. "You mean I'm not dead?"

Mitch reached out and touched her hand; Natalie took it as a sign of surrender, and tried once again to move closer into his arms, but Mitch didn't hold her fingers like he used to. He merely ran his own along her arm, a thoughtful frown clouding his already disturbed expression.

"There's life in you yet," he said quietly. "Incredible."

"Mitch, how are you here? How am I here? Where are we and how did we get here?" Natalie asked, her voice becoming increasingly high. Mitch laughed, his eyes dancing.

"Calm down! God, Natalie, I swear, you're a seven-year-old in an adult's body," he chortled. Natalie grinned. He had said such things before.

"Now, I don't know exactly where we are, but I know we're the only ones here, if that helps," Mitch said slowly. "It's an alternate dimension, I think. I didn't get the specifics."

"When you say you were granted this place," Natalie pursued, "you mean someone else sort of lent it to you. Who?"

Mitch raised an eyebrow. "Who do you think?"

Natalie's breath would have stopped, yet she hadn't been breathing in minutes. Mitch plowed on without letting her ask any follow up questions.

"You were dying," Mitch said, his voice choked slightly. "You were on the verge of death. That's why you're here."

"You stopped me?" she asked sadly.

"Of course!" he snapped. "It isn't your time, love. You were giving up, giving in to the pain…"

"I was stabbed, like, five times!" Natalie argued. "And some surgeon spilled some chemicals on me, it burned like hell! I couldn't think straight, I wasn't even conscious, I'm not even conscious right now…"

"Natalie, you can't give up," Mitch continued in a strained voice. "Please. I'm begging you. Your life isn't over yet; I know it seems easy, giving in and passing through the gates, but you have so much to live for."

Now that the pain had ended, such reasons to live as her daughter came back to Natalie. The guilt and self-hatred was overwhelming; how could she have put her own comfort in front of all the sadness she would cause if she died?

"Julie needs you," Mitch said softly. "Please, live for her."

Natalie gave Mitch a pained look, and averted her eyes from his. Finding nothing else to look at, she shut her eyes tight and let herself sob.

"It hurt like nothing else," she cried. "I've never felt anything like that before. I'll go through it again, maybe worse next time…"

"Next time?" Mitch echoed. "Who says there'll be a next time?"

"I work with Mr. Monk--,"

"--who desperately needs you in his life--"

"Yes, thank you, Mitch. I work with Mr. Monk, who investigates dangerous homicides every other day. I've been taken hostage before, who's to say we won't run into a crazed killer who's only looking for some innocent assistant to kill?"

"There are crazed assistant killers in California now, huh?" Mitch grinned. "Things have changed."

"Yes, they have," Natalie snapped, but couldn't keep a straight face for long. She broke into a grin, which immediately faded as a nagging thought found its way to her mouth.

"If I go back-- _there_," Natalie whispered. "I won't see you again till my dying day, will I?"

Mitch didn't respond. This was answer enough, and Natalie turned away.

"I considered letting you come with me," Mitch said quietly, and his hand found her shoulder. "God, I wanted it more than you could know. I missed you, Nat."

He pulled her into a hug, and Natalie hugged back, pure shock at how incredible it felt to hug Mitch flooding her body. She had felt this every day once, she remembered regretfully. She should have savored it more.

"But you need to go back," Mitch sighed. "You need to. There are so many things in life you've never experienced. Besides," he grimaced, "there's someone in your future who you can't meet unless you return."

Natalie gaped at him. "Are you serious?"

"I wouldn't joke about that," Mitch said shortly. Natalie nodded.

"You do know that no matter who I meet, I'll still love you," Natalie confirmed anxiously.

"I hope so," Mitch muttered. "I also hope you don't mind if I beat him up once he makes it to heaven."

"How come I've never seen you before now?" Natalie questioned.

"You're just stalling now, right?" Mitch grinned. Natalie shook her head vigorously.

"No, I mean it. Mr. Monk sees Trudy all the time…" Natalie trailed off, and the hurt and resentment was clear.

"Mr. Monk has only seen Trudy once since she passed on," Mitch said quietly. "She's told me."

"You've met--,"

"Yes. Do you remember when you first started working for Monk, when he solved the murder of John Ricca, the author of that biography about the Kung Fu star, Sonny Chow?"

"Mr. Monk was captured and buried alive in a coffin," Natalie recalled with a shudder. "I had just started working for him."

"Exactly," Mitch agreed. "He passed out from lack of air, and was suddenly in Trudy's arms, in a lush park with children running everywhere."

"So it was really her?" Natalie gasped. Mitch nodded.

"Monk was giving up; he was ready to die, wanted to die, didn't see how he could avoid death. Trudy stayed with him, knowing someone would find him. She saved his life, though she wanted nothing more than for him to join her. The other times that Monk has been with Trudy, they've been nothing more than hallucinations. Trudy, the real Trudy, has watched, not daring to reveal herself."

"Does she know who killed her?" Natalie asked, a question that had been burning in her throat since the beginning of the anecdote.

"Yes," Mitch said quietly. "And so do I."

Natalie waited, but Mitch stayed silent, smirking at her.

"Aw, c'mon!" she whined. "You've got to be kidding."

"He's got to find out for himself," Mitch sighed. "And he will. You'll be there."

Natalie frowned. "Okay, so you can't tell me what happened to Trudy. Can you tell me what happened to you? In Kosovo, I mean?"

Mitch pulled away jerkily, his head bowing. "The plane crashed, Nat. There's no big mystery."

Natalie's stomach plummeted, yet her heart soared with relief. "So you didn't run?"

"You mean to save myself? Leave my crew?" Mitch looked astonished. "I swear to you…"

"I believe you," Natalie assured him. "It's a relief, I can tell you that. Wow. It's a weird feeling… after so many years of wondering, it's almost terrifying not having anything to obsess about."

She was grinning as she said it, but Mitch grimaced slightly.

"When Monk finds Trudy's killer," Mitch said carefully, "he'll feel what you're feeling now… just a thousand times stronger. He'll need you more than ever."

"Can you be a bit more specific?" Natalie begged, unsatisfied with the information.

"Just be there for him," Mitch ordered vaguely. Natalie pursed her lips.

"I always am."

"I know."

After a moment, Mitch glanced up as though a friend had called his name. He cocked his head and smiled sadly. "It's time."

"No."

"Natalie, you have to go back."

"Mitch…"

"I swear to you, I'll never leave your side," he begged. "I'll be with you whenever you need me."

"But I won't be able to see you!"

"Your own personal guardian angel."

Natalie felt a sharp pain twinge in her chest, and she yelped, curling closer into Mitch's arms. But he pushed her away, silver tears sparkling on his face.

"Go back to our daughter," he said in a soft yet commanding voice. "I would if I had the choice."

The colorless dimension was fading around them; darkness shrouded Natalie again. She was safe in her own mind.

Mitch was still there, yet fading fast. She didn't let go of his hand; though her heartbeats had started jumping in her chest again, she repressed them, terrified.

"Stop," Mitch pleaded. "You have to try, Nat. Please."

Natalie took in short gasps of air, and began hyperventilating as she realized the air was laced with chemicals. The operating room flickered around her; surgeons' voices bellowed in her ears.

Natalie turned back to Mitch, yet he was gone; the hand in her own was feminine, and wearing a golden wedding ring that resembled one she had seen every day for the past five years.

Natalie look up into the woman's face; her soft blonde hair fell past her shoulders, framing pale skin and caring eyes that sparkled with the memories of years full of joy. Natalie knew this woman. She had seen her picture many times, had talked about her every week, had felt a stab of pity every time her employer mentioned her…

"Trudy?" she whispered. Trudy nodded, her face wet with tears.

"Please don't give up," Trudy said quietly. "You've helped my husband through so much… he needs you. He loves you."

"He could always find another assistant," Natalie argued halfheartedly. "He found me after Sharona."

Trudy's eyes were now pained. "Natalie, I'm begging you," she whispered. "Adrian has lost so much."

Shame boiled in Natalie's stomach; how could she be so careless?

"I know letting go is hard," Trudy said. "But it won't be forever. I told Adrian the same."

Other figures formed in the corners of her vision; relatives, teachers, mentors, even some homicide victims who Mr. Monk had put to rest by solving their various cases. Mitch stood in front of them all.

She smiled slightly, and her heartbeat skyrocketed. All other figures disappeared, yet Mitch remained, smiling with her until the world went black and life raced through her veins.

Natalie stayed completely unconscious for hours after the operation, yet alive and fairly healthy. She lay in a private hospital room, surrounded by friends and family.

Finally, as the clock chimed mournfully for the fifth time since her operation, Natalie awoke.

It was very gradual and extremely confusing; since everything in the room was white and sterile, Natalie couldn't help but wonder if she had finally died and this was heaven. This thought caused her heart to skip painfully, and she forced her eyes open, searching for Mitch.

It became very clear that this was not, indeed, heaven. Her head ached the moment her eyelids opened, and she groaned pitifully, sinking deeper into the crisp sheets of her bed. After a few moments the world had stopped spinning, and Natalie could observe her surroundings easily.

The furniture was sparse; just a few plastic chairs which were all occupied. Julie was slumped against her grandmother, sound asleep. Tear tracks glittered on her cheeks, yet she looked very peaceful.

No one noticed Natalie had awoken; she took advantage of this, letting her eyelids fall slightly, yet open enough to allow her to see properly.

Her parents sat next to each other, stroking Julie's hair and talking quietly. Captain Stottlemeyer paced up and down the hall outside; Natalie caught glimpses of him every time the Captain passed the doorway. Lieutenant Disher sat opposite her daughter, flipping through a _Highlights _magazine with apparent interest. Natalie couldn't suppress a smirk.

Monk was standing awkwardly (no surprises there) in the middle of the room, looking torn between his disgust at the fact that a thousand sick people lay in bed everywhere in the building and admiration at the pure cleanliness of the room. He rolled his shoulders frequently, working out the nonexistent kink.

Suddenly, Monk turned to Natalie's bed and smiled slightly. "She's awake."

Every face brightened in the room, all eyes fixed on Natalie. Julie awoke with a start, mumbling "Mom's awake?"

"How did you know?" Natalie demanded, surprised by how weak her voice sounded. It was pointless to ask; Monk always noticed every little detail, and the moment he explained how he had seen through her charade, she would be feeling terribly inadequate.

"You became restless, crossing and uncrossing your ankles and glancing around the room. You became self conscious of how your chest rose and fell when you breathed," Monk explained. "A few minutes previously, you were in a deep sleep; you barely moved for five hours. It was obvious."

Of course it was. To him. "Before we discuss anything else, would anyone care to tell me what happened?" Natalie asked. Randy returned his gaze to the _Highlights_ magazine, and then, remembering what he was reading, quickly exchanged the copy for a _Sports Illustrated_. Natalie's parents both looked at the floor, becoming tense. Captain Stottlemeyer, who had stopped pacing, clung sheepishly to the doorframe.

"What? Is it really that bad?" Natalie said to the room at large. Julie came and knelt by her bed, grabbing her hand.

"Do you remember anything?" Julie asked. Natalie frowned, trying to remember.

"I was at a crime scene," she said slowly. "Someone grabbed me… I was hurt… I was brought into the hospital… and something happened in surgery."

Julie nodded. "The man at the crime scene was Paul Buchanan."

Natalie took a sharp breath. Paul Buchanan? The stuck-up rich kid who had practically stalked her in high school? A couple years ago, Mr. Monk had gone undercover as Paul's butler; shortly afterward, Paul had taken Natalie into the woods and tried to kill her. It seem the guy didn't take unrequited love well. But seriously, how could Natalie not think he was a jerk? Paul had once hired some goons to break Natalie's boyfriend's legs.

"Why?" Natalie breathed. "Wait, wasn't Paul arrested before? He killed his stepmother."

"He got out," Randy sighed. "The guy may be a complete jerk, but he's smart. Smart with money. Heaps of it."

"So Paul shows up at a crime scene Mr. Monk was investigating," Natalie concluded, eager for details.

"He was completely crazy," Stottlemeyer said. "The guy was shouting that you had broken his heart and ruined his life. He had a knife to your neck; he wasn't asking for ransom, he just wanted you dead."

"I shot at him," Randy said in a muffled voice, his palm pressed over his mouth. Natalie waited, but Randy said no more.

"You know the rest," Stottlemeyer sighed. "Buchanan stabs you, you're rushed into surgery, some idiot doctor makes an almost fatal mistake, we worry our brains out for an hour, and now here you are."

"Wow," Natalie said in a small voice. She didn't know what else to say.

"You don't seem that upset," Julie commented. Natalie shrugged.

"I knew what was happening… I could remember parts of it. And then…"

She trailed off, uncertain if any of the people in the room would believe her. Her friends and family looked expectantly at her, their patience ebbing.

"'And then' what?" Randy demanded after a minute. "What happened?"

"Well…" Natalie decided to give her friends the benefit of the doubt. "When I first sort of half-awoke, I saw these gold gates. I couldn't remember anything but my name. And then it all came back to me…"

Though all eyes had widened at the mention of the gates, her visitors nodded as she explained how different memories had linked her life back together.

"…And just as I had started feeling comfortable with the world again, my ankles and wrists began hurting. It spread fast, becoming unbearable. I gave in. The gates appeared again. I wanted to go through them, I tried."

Monk's eyes had widened; Julie was cringing slightly, as if worried her mother was now certifiably insane.

"Then everything disappeared," Natalie said, grinning slightly at her own lame summation of the day's fantastic events. "I was in a colorless world, suspended. And suddenly I wasn't alone--"

Natalie voice caught. The absence of Mitch screamed from every corner of the room. She couldn't push the thought to the back of her mind, for fear she would forget him forever.

"You weren't alone," Stottlemeyer repeated. Natalie nodded, staring fixedly at a blank point on the wall.

When Natalie refused to continue, an awkward tension spread throughout the room, thick and heavy. Only Monk, who, like Natalie had pointed out on their first meeting, "had zero social skills", dared break the silence.

"Who was there?" he asked bluntly.

"Mitch," Natalie mumbled, barely audible even to her own ears.

"Excuse me?"

"Mitch!" she said clearly, almost angrily, as though the word were dirty. It hurt to force the one syllable through her teeth.

The room became silent again. "Dad?" Julie whispered. Natalie bit her lip.

"I can't explain it!" she blurted. "All of a sudden he was there, and telling me not to give up!"

"Natalie," the captain said, "you were drugged. Maybe your mind was having a little fun."

"I know it was him," Natalie said stubbornly. "I've dreamt about him before, but he's never been this… clear."

She blushed automatically, though no one seemed to care. "By clear," Randy said, "you mean you could see him better than normal."

"All I have left of him is a few pictures," Natalie sighed. "Not even good ones. I haven't seen Mitch- obviously- in so many years. And yet it was like meeting him for the first time."

The group surrounding Natalie's bed had no retort, though Monk had rolled his shoulders twice and seemed to be teetering on the edge of speaking, his mouth twitching oddly as though words were leaping about his throat, deciding whether or not to reveal themselves.

"You must be exhausted," Natalie's mother said uncomfortably. "We should let her rest," she added to the rest of the group. Though the act might seem thoughtful to some, Natalie ruefully realized her mother's veiled dismissal of the crazed conversation.

Randy, Stottlemeyer, and the two Davenports left for the cafeteria, with Randy drilling Natalie's parents with insane questions about the toothpaste industry all the while. Julie and Monk remained.

"Was it really dad?" Julie whispered eagerly. She hadn't believed in the supernatural- or much of anything- since her mother had told her that Mr. Henry, her fish, had actually died years ago, and Natalie had been replacing it every year. It had been a serious blow that made her feel gullible and stupid, and Julie hadn't trusted her mother for months after the conversation.

"Yeah," Natalie promised. "He loves you, Jules. More than anything."

Julie giggled, though not completely convinced. She left for the cafeteria as well, her eyes revealing a storm of conflicting emotions.

Monk stared resolutely at the pristine floor. Natalie's patience had been tested infinitely in the past few years, so she didn't press her boss to speak. She was too touched he was even there, in a building full of gravely injured and sick people.

The minutes dragged on, and Natalie sighed, deciding to break the news as quickly as possible.

"Trudy really is beautiful," she said, watching as Monk froze where he stood. It might not have been the classiest way to tell her boss she had met with his dead wife, but her head was spinning and she was about ready to pass out again, so the mumbled words would have to do.

"I know," Monk replied, quite indifferent. Natalie frowned.

"I mean in person."

Monk clamored closer to Natalie's bed- well, close enough that he could talk to her without 'catching any life threatening diseases'. It wouldn't do any good to explain to him that Natalie wasn't sick at all.

"What--?" He couldn't manage any more. Natalie had never seen her boss like that before, overexcited, eyes gleaming with forgotten hope.

"Mitch wasn't the only one I met 'beyond the grave'," Natalie said sheepishly. "When he left, telling me to go back, I almost gave up again. And then she was there, telling me to live…"

Though later Natalie might have resented the fact that Monk only truly believed in her spiritual conversations when he benefited from them, but for the moment, she was proud that she had brought such happiness into such an unhappy life.

Natalie suddenly became unbearably tired, sinking deep into the pillows, hoping beyond hope that she would dream of Mitch. And sleep must have claimed her soon, because all of a sudden Mitch was standing by her bed, radiating warmth and comfort.

But she couldn't have been asleep, a rational part of Natalie argued, because Mr. Monk was still by her bed as well, waving a hand in front of her face to see if she had dropped off. Natalie's eyes widened, and her left hand reached weakly for her husband, who shook his head yet didn't disappear just yet.

Then Mitch was gone, replaced by the unmistakably kind Trudy Monk, who spared Natalie a thoughtful glance before turning her eyes on her husband. Natalie smiled slightly, succumbing to her drowsiness and falling into an uneasy yet nonetheless deep sleep.


End file.
